Chapter Four: The Story

  "In the beginning, there was Light and Shadow."

  Amalia's voice was a soft caress that carried to the ears of everyone on unseen and unfelt winds. The words seemed to touch each person individually, as though she were whispering directly into their ears. The room had fallen into complete silence; not even the crackling of the fire could be heard. As she spoke, a white ball of Light bloomed in the darkness above her head, bathing the room in brilliance that somehow did not hurt the eyes to behold. But the shadows were not banished by this radiance. Instead, they seemed to intensify, becoming almost tangible, pooling in corners and under furniture, writhing like living things.

  Ash felt the air around him grow heavy with significance. Beside him, Rosalia had stopped fidgeting, her eyes wide and fixed on the storyteller. Even Nick, who had been so dismissive earlier, leaned forward slightly, his expression guarded but attentive.

  "It is in the Light's nature to create, and so it did. Dominion was born."

  There was a pulse from the ball of white that floated in the middle of the darkness, a heartbeat of creation itself. From it flowed land, a transparent, brilliant image of white blanketing most of the room, forming mountains and valleys, plains and forests, all rendered in luminous detail. Some of the children, their eyes wide with wonder, reached up tiny hands to clutch at the image floating above them, their wonderment growing as their hands passed through it, leaving ripples of light in their wake.

  Uncle Derrick stood at the back of the room, his weathered face solemn. Aunt Dara sat with her hands folded in her lap, her eyes reflecting the light of creation. Court Va'Sear had his large hand resting on his daughter's shoulder, his expression inscrutable. All around, neighbors and friends watched in reverent silence as the story they had heard a hundred times before unfolded once again.

  Amalia's voice grew even softer, becoming the sliding whisper of a blade on cloth, filled with subtle menace.

  "It is in the Shadow's nature to slowly corrupt and consume all. So it did, spreading across the land."

  The shadows began encroaching on the luminous landscape, tendrils of darkness reaching like grasping fingers. They caused thick veins of shadow to bulge within the light-created land, pulsing like infected wounds, eventually shattering the image into shards of white that hung suspended in the air for a heartbeat before slowly descending like snow.

  A small child whimpered somewhere in the crowd. An older woman murmured a prayer. Ash felt a chill run through him, despite having seen this display before. There was something about Amalia's telling, about the images she conjured, that made the ancient tale feel immediate and real, as though they were witnessing the birth of their world firsthand.

  "Desiring to protect its creation, the Light formed guardians from its substance. Tasked with beating back the Shadow."

  Splitting off from the central orb, smaller spheres of light rushed forward, leaving trails of radiance behind them like comets. The shadows recoiled from them, hissing and spitting in silent fury. The guardians circled the remnants of creation, forming a protective barrier of light.

  "Thus free to create, the Light formed the waters and the skies. It made the sun and the moon. So it was that night and day were created."

  A brilliant orange, pink, and red sphere blazed into existence over the recreated land, casting warm light over all. Its colors shifted and swirled, mimicking the daily journey of the sun. After some time had passed in mere moments, it faded, replaced by a pale orb, full and soft, its gentle radiance pulling, calling to the shimmering waters that had formed below.

  The air in the room seemed to cycle between warmth and coolness as the illusory sun and moon passed overhead. The smells of fresh earth and clean water seemed to emanate from nowhere, completing the sensory experience of witnessing creation.

  "The Light desired to create something more like itself, beings who could appreciate his creations. It made the dragons."

  A roar filled the air, so realistic that many jerked back or cried out in alarm. Large creatures with serpentine bodies and massive wings sprawled over the illusory land, their scales brilliant in every shade imaginable from deep emerald to burnished copper, from midnight blue to fiery crimson. Their wings beat at the air, creating small currents that could be felt by those watching. Flames of various colors erupted from their maws, bathing the room in rainbow light.

  Ash found himself entranced by one particular dragon, smaller than the others, with scales of deep winter purple. Something about it called to him, though he couldn't say why. He had never before noticed this dragon in Amalia's telling.

  "Still, the Light was not satisfied. Something was missing. It created the first people, eternal and beyond mortal beauty."

  Figures, some male, others female, began to appear on the land. Taller than any elf, with features of such otherworldly perfection that they seemed more like living statues than flesh and blood beings. They raised their hands in what might have been worship or celebration, bodies swaying in harmony with one another.

  "Much to the Light's delight and shock, its creation created something of its own. The first songs. So the Light named them the Lyrlalae, or the Singers. It gifted their music with a power to create, to shape all its own."

  As Amalia spoke the ancient name, the air vibrated with a harmony so perfect it brought tears to many eyes. Pushing their hands forward, the Lyrlalae figures began to weave intricate patterns in the air, motes of light puffing from their mouths like visible notes of music. Where these notes landed, new creations sprang forth: trees with silver bark and golden leaves, grass that rippled like water, rocks veined with precious metals, mountains that scraped the ceiling of the room. The Singers raised their heads to the sky, arms extended in supplication, and stars began to dot the night sky, forming constellations that mirrored those visible outside the farmhouse windows.

  Ash glanced around the room, noting the expressions of those watching. Most were rapt, caught up in the familiar story. But Nick, seated to his right, subtly rolled his eyes at the mention of the Lyrlalae, his skepticism evident in the set of his shoulders. Rosalia's father, Court, had a strange expression on his face, almost one of recognition, as if the mention of the Singers stirred some deep memory.

  Amalia's voice turned soft and sharp once more, drawing everyone's attention back to the unfolding tale.

  "But the Shadow was not yet done. It was an insidious thing, and it began to seep into the Light's guardians, twisting their substance into something darker."

  The small orbs of light that had been protecting creation began to pulse erratically, their pure white glow contaminated by threads of darkness. Slowly, horribly, they transformed. Twisted, dark, monstrous things that defied explanation began crawling over the Light's creation, their forms constantly shifting as if they couldn't decide what shape to take. Some resembled insects with too many legs; others were like wolves with multiple heads or birds with teeth instead of beaks. Children cried out, clutching at their parents, burying their faces in protective embraces.

  "These dark creatures ate away at the land, consuming all they came across, their once pure purpose distorted into a perverted thing."

  One of the creatures, larger than the others, fell upon a magnificent red dragon. The dragon cried out, a sound of such anguish that it seemed to pierce through flesh and bone. Its scales blackened and fell away as the creature devoured it from within, leaving nothing but a hollow shell that crumbled to dust.

  The illusory Singers looked worried, conferring among themselves, their formerly harmonious voices now discordant with fear.

  "The Light went to the Singers and tasked them with creating a prison. Using their powerful voices, they created a world separate from Dominion. The Nevervare."

  The Singers joined hands, forming a circle. From their mouths came not light but darkness, a controlled void that gathered before them, expanding until it formed a world of utter black opposite the vast land of Dominion. The two spheres hung in the air, one filled with light and life, the other an abyss of nothingness.

  "Working with the Singers, the Light imprisoned the creatures within. But now he lacked guardians to defend what he had made, and so the Light kept the Shadow at bay itself, in tandem with the guardians that remained."

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The great orb of Light moved to place itself between Dominion and the encroaching darkness, surrounded by the few smaller orbs that had not been corrupted. Together they formed a barrier, glowing intensely whenever the Shadow tried to reach past them. For now, the Shadow could not overcome them, but the strain was visible in the flickering of the Light's radiance.

  "For a time, there was peace, and a strange thing happened. From the waters came lifeforms. Those lifeforms evolved over the eons, and the mortal races began to walk the earth. Men, elves, dwarves, and Visenium. They began to roam across the land, building, growing, and changing as time marched on."

  Buildings of wood and stone rose from the ground, forming villages that grew into towns and then cities. People of various shapes and sizes appeared, some with the pointed ears of elves, others with the stout frames of dwarves. Humans with their varied appearances spread widely, while the ethereal Visenium with their translucent skin clustered near water sources. Society began to spread across the land, fields were tilled, forests managed, mountains mined.

  "Through this time, Shadow had become dimmer and dimmer, but something strange happened. As Shadow dimmed, so too did the Light. It was with this that the Light understood. Neither force could exist without the other. For Light to exist, there must be Shadow, with the reverse also being true."

  The audience watched as Shadow and Light dimmed simultaneously, their fading synchronized like twin candles burning out. As they diminished, the Light's creations began to warp and fade, colors leaching from the world, structures crumbling, waters stilling. It was a vision of slow, inevitable entropy.

  "Knowing that if it stopped fighting, Shadow would corrupt and consume all, the Light made a proposal to Shadow. They would work through proxies. Should Shadow win, Light would leave all it had created to Shadow. Should Light win, Shadow would recede and cease its consumption of Light's creations. Shadow agreed. It was with this pact that the conflict began."

  The central orb of Light pulled away from its position guarding the land, its remaining smaller guardians vanishing with it. The room darkened momentarily, a collective breath held in anticipation of what would come next.

  "The Light returned to its creation, finding that its newly born people had warred with the dragons, and the Singers had vanished. Dismayed, it went to the mortals and explained the coming conflict. It brought peace to the war through a pact between mortals and dragons. So the Dragon Lords were formed. They flew the skies, slaying monsters and maintaining peace throughout Dominion. From among them, the Light chose an avatar to dwell within."

  As Amalia spoke of the Dragon Lords, Ash felt a strange resonance within him, as if something deep in his bones recognized the words. He saw riders astride mighty dragons, women and men in brilliant armor, wielding swords and spears that gleamed with inner light. They seemed more real than any other part of the illusion, and for a moment, Ash could have sworn one of them looked directly at him, recognition flaring in eyes of impossible blue.

  "The Hero of Light!" a child near the front cried out in excitement, unable to contain herself despite the solemnity of the occasion.

  Amalia smiled slightly at the young girl, a rare break in her composed demeanor.

  "Indeed," she confirmed, her voice warming. "The Hero of Light united the mortal world. But the Shadow was not to be outdone. It tempted and corrupted mortals, turning them to its purposes. One of these was a great wild dragon. Shadow dwelled within it, corrupted creatures of the land, giving birth to kobolds and other fearsome creatures."

  Lizard-like monsters sprouted from the ground like noxious weeds, their scales gleaming wetly in the dim light. Behind them, a massive dragon black as the void between stars rose up, its scales twisted and malformed, its eyes burning with cold fire. The creature's wingspan stretched from wall to wall, and frost formed on nearby objects as it exhaled. Before this monstrosity gathered a colossal army of misshapen beings, each more nightmarish than the last.

  "The mortal world prepared. Building siege engines, advancing their magicks, shoring up defenses."

  The illusion showed people working frantically, constructing massive catapults and ballistas, mages forming circles to cast protective spells, smiths hammering day and night to produce weapons and armor. A sense of desperate determination filled the air.

  A dark, visible wind, colder than a winter storm, passed through the illusory land, settling over it like a chilling weight of unseen monsters. The temperature in the farmhouse seemed to drop noticeably, causing several people to shiver and draw closer together for warmth.

  "A war was coming. A war unlike any this world has ever seen since."

  The colossal army of Shadow began to march across the land, an inexorable tide of darkness. Everywhere they passed, life withered and died. Trees blackened and crumbled, waters stagnated, animals fell dead in their tracks. Villages were razed, their inhabitants slaughtered without mercy. The image before them all undulated with malevolence, fear and despair radiating from it in palpable waves.

  Fear was writ on every face in the room. Children clutched their parents more tightly, and even the adults looked unsettled by the visceral depiction of destruction. Ash found himself unconsciously reaching for the hilt of a sword that wasn't there, a strange protective instinct welling up inside him.

  But then, a change came over the scene. The armies of Light rode out to meet the coming tide of Shadow, banners of white and gold fluttering in the wind. At their head, flying on a great white dragon with scales like freshly fallen snow, blade raised high and gleaming with inner radiance, was the Hero of Light.

  "The Hero of Light brought forth his armies, and the clash of these epic forces was so great the world shuddered."

  At her words, the image vibrated violently, causing the floor beneath them to seem to tremble. Cups rattled on shelves, and the flames in the hearth flickered wildly. The illusion showed armies meeting in a cataclysmic collision, light against dark, order against chaos, creation against destruction. The battle moved too quickly to follow individual combatants, becoming a blur of motion and color.

  "No one knows how long the war lasted; it is said to have been eons. Others claim it was hours. But no one disputes how it ended. The great dragon, the Evil One, had been defeated. The Light had won."

  On the illusory battlefield, the armies of Light cheered, raising weapons high in victory. Bodies of the fallen lay strewn across the ground, but hope shone on the faces of the survivors. The Hero of Light stood proud atop a small rise, his armor dented but intact, his great white dragon raising its head to the heavens and sending a burst of brilliant white flame from its maw into the sky, a beacon of triumph.

  "But the Shadow would not relent, for it was a sore loser. It refused to honor the agreement."

  The black dragon that had led the forces of Shadow lay broken on the field, its massive form still in death. But as the celebration continued, a mass of Shadow erupted from the fallen beast, like oil seeping from a wound. It gathered itself into a massive ball of utter darkness, pulsing with malice, ready to consume all in its path.

  On the field, the Hero of Light turned to face this new threat, his posture showing neither fear nor surprise. He merely shook his head, as if disappointed but prepared.

  "The Hero of Light had known this was possible, so it had prepared for this. Raising his hand, he cast a great magick."

  The Hero's form began to glow with increasing brightness, until he was almost too radiant to look upon directly. The gathered ball of Shadow and the dragon's corpse it had emerged from rose into the air, suspended by the Hero's power. With a mighty push of both hands and a burst of light that temporarily blinded everyone in the room, the Shadow was shoved through what appeared to be a tear in the very fabric of reality. It was pushed so hard that it was shoved outside of creation itself.

  "The Light had created this place outside of creation, and in the Shadow's weakened, defeated state, the Hero could seal the Shadow there. But it had a cost."

  The tear sealed itself with a sound like thunder, leaving behind a black scar in the sky, a wound that would never fully heal. The Hero of Light stumbled backward, his radiance dimming rapidly. He fell to his knees, one hand pressed to his chest. The great white dragon beside him slumped to the ground, its breathing labored. The armies gathered around their fallen leader, looks of horror replacing their earlier jubilation. The Hero of Light held out a trembling hand, as if trying to reassure them.

  "Without Shadow, there can be no Light. This remains true of great magic such as this. Such a thing requires sacrifice. One the Hero was glad to pay, for so he had come to love his people and the world the Light had made, he gave his life and the life of his dragon for it."

  The Hero of Light collapsed fully, his body going still. The white dragon gave one final, keening cry before its head fell to the earth, never to rise again. The illusion showed the armies kneeling around their fallen saviors, heads bowed in grief and gratitude.

  The Hero of Light was dead.

  Sobs could be heard throughout the room, not just from children but from adults as well. This part of the story never failed to move the audience, no matter how many times they had heard it before. Ash felt his own eyes grow damp, though he couldn't explain why the tale affected him so deeply every time.

  Amalia's voice turned soft, reverent, as she brought the story to its conclusion.

  "From that day on, the armies carried this story. They have passed it down through their families, carrying it from generation to generation. We have come to know it by one name."

  Here, the storyteller paused, the silence stretching until it seemed to fill the entire room. The illusion had faded, leaving only darkness. Then, with a gesture from Amalia's staff, the fire roared in the fireplace, lighting up like a beacon that bathed the room in a jubilant glow, chasing away the shadows and returning warmth to chilled bones.

  "Remembrance Day."

  No one spoke for several moments. The transition from the mythic scene back to the ordinary farmhouse was jarring, leaving everyone caught between worlds. Ash blinked, trying to reorient himself to the present, the images of battle and sacrifice still vivid in his mind.

  Slowly, someone near the back began to clap. Others joined in, hesitantly at first, then with growing enthusiasm. Soon the whole room erupted in applause for Amalia's performance, as they did every year. The storyteller gave a small, gracious nod, neither proud nor dismissive of the recognition.

  Aunt Dara wiped tears from her eyes with a handkerchief. Uncle Derrick stood straighter, as if bearing an invisible weight. Court Va'Sear's expression was unreadable, but his hand had tightened on Rosalia's shoulder. Nick looked thoughtful, his earlier skepticism replaced by contemplation.

  At precisely that moment, as the applause began to die down and people started to move or speak, the door burst open with such force that it shattered into splinters, wood fragments spraying across the entryway.

  That's when the screaming began.

  The sound cut through the room like a physical blow, high-pitched and filled with terror. In the doorway stood a figure, but in the confusion and sudden movement of people trying to see or flee, Ash couldn't make out who or what it was. All he knew was that the night of remembrance had suddenly transformed into something else entirely, something that made his blood run cold with a fear he had never known before.